The Stakeout
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Lucas asks House for advice on pleasing Cuddy.


**This one comes from a prompt (and then a brilliant follow-up prompt) from my girl gnortn: She said, "What if House acted as Cyrano for Cuddy and Lucas"? And I said, "Why on earth would he do that?" And she said, "Could be similar to the reason Cyrano stands in for Christian. As a way to tell Roxanne his true feelings for her without exposing her to his ugliness, or in House's case, his inability to not be such a jerk to her."**

**Whoa. **

**So I really liked that idea and ran with it. As often is the case with serious prompts, I ended up giving it a comedic twist. (Sorry gnortn!) Still, I think it's kinda fun. If you are allergic to Luddy sex, however, stay away. It was a necessary evil here. - atd**

Lucas and House had been sitting in his van for almost five hours and it was beginning to smell a little rank.

There were empty Styrofoam coffee cups and candy wrappers and soda cans littering the floor, and, much to House's disgust, Lucas had taken off his shoes some time after the third hour. The van's rug—possibly once a shag, now worn and flat and matted—had a dank and moldy quality about it.

"When was the last time you washed this rug?" House groaned, sniffing it.

"Who washes a rug in a van?" Lucas said.

"People who spend hours at a time in their vans," House replied. Then he stretched his legs, uncomfortably. "Listen Lucas, I can't last much longer. I'm hot. My leg hurts. And you smell like a gym sock."

"I'll be sure to shower before our next stake-out."

House shot him a look as if to say: There won't be another stakeout. (When Lucas had asked him to serve as medical adviser on a case, he had to admit he had been taken a bit off guard. The two men were barely speaking to each other. But he was bored and hadn't been sleeping all that well. Plus, Lucas promised a bottle of 12-year old Macallan for the favor.)

"Two more hours," Lucas said. "If the guy doesn't show, we'll call it a night. Or, uh, a morning."

"You do realize that when it's dark like this, the odds of me being able to identify whiplash are nearly nil?"

"I have faith," Lucas said, popping open a can of warm orange soda and taking a gulp. He held the can toward House. "Want some?"

"I'm good," House said, with a slight sneer.

They watched the empty sidewalk and stoop quietly for a few minutes.

Finally, out of morbid curiosity, House asked: "How are things going with Cuddy?"

Lucas shrugged.

"Okay," he said, neutrally.

"Okay?" House said, side-eyeing him. "Just okay?"

(This was quite possibly the best news he had heard all week.)

"I mean, we're fine. We're not in danger of breaking up or anything," Lucas said.

"Oh," House said. "Thank _God_."

Lucas chuckled.

"But something's missing."

"Your dignity? Your status as a free man? Your memory of ever wearing the pants in any relationship?"

Lucas scratched at a spot of dirt on the window, but it turned out to be a tiny crack.

"I saw you two the other day," he said, quietly.

"When?"

"I was picking up Cuddy for lunch and you were in her office," Lucas said.

"I hope we weren't having sex. Because that would've been awkward."

"Hilarious," Lucas said. He knew House well enough to not take the bait on his provocations. "You two were just talking. But I . . . well. . . it's dumb."

"Yes, you are. Can you be more specific?"

"I got jealous," Lucas admitted.

"You wished that _you_ had a dying patient who needed a risky heart procedure?"

"No. . the way she looked at you. The way her eyes were kind of dancing, you know? How angry she got with you. And then how she was laughing. There was . . . passion."

House frowned.

"I don't remember anything out of the ordinary about that conversation," he said.

"That's just it!" Lucas said, in an almost agitated way. "She's always like that around you. So focused, so fully in the moment. Around me, not so much. . ."

"And yet, irony of ironies, she's your girlfriend. You should probably dump her so she'll start dating me."

"Or. . .you could give me some pointers," Lucas said.

House actually laughed out loud.

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because I'm asking for your help," Lucas said.

House squinted at him.

"What kind of pointers?"

"On how to get her to like me as much as she likes you."

"I think you've got it twisted, my friend. She's your girlfriend. I'm just the loser she leaves standing alone on dance floors and sends on wild turkey chases to her sister's house on Thanksgiving."

"Both acts of passion. She's in love with you," Lucas said. "We both know it."

House felt a stir upon hearing those words, but he tried not to show it.

"Oh we do, do we?"

"Yes, but that's besides the point," Lucas said. "She's with me. And there's a good reason she's with me. Cuddy and I make sense."

"So you're saying that Cuddy and I don't make sense?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you," Lucas said.

"If this is the way you generally ask for favors you've been doing it wrong," House said.

Lucas sighed, folded his arms.

"All I'm saying is this: You're a drug addict—"

"_Former_ drug addict," House corrected.

"An asshole. . ."

"_Former_ . . .okay, you got me there, I'm still an asshole."

"You hate kids."

"I don't hate kids. I just don't see the point in spending time with them."

"And you've made Cuddy more miserable than anyone in her life," Lucas said.

"Says who?" House said, arching an eyebrow.

"Says Cuddy."

(Her actual quote had been: "House has managed to give me more misery than anyone else in my life . . . and more joy"—but Lucas decided to skip that last part.)

"Huh," House said.

"The point is: You and Cuddy. Not going to happen. Too much baggage. Not enough sense. So I'm all Cuddy's got."

"Pity Cuddy then."

"Or help me to be more alluring to her. Like you only. . .nicer."

"This makes zero sense. Did Romeo ask Paris for dating tips for Juliet? Did Veronica ask Betty how to win Archie's heart? Did Gatsby ask Tom Buchanan to tell him Daisy's favorite perfume? No."

Lucas ignored him.

"Look," he said. "At least think about it. Because if Cuddy could somehow combine you and me, she'd have the perfect boyfriend."

Then he stretched and yawned.

"This guy's a no show. Same time tomorrow night?"

#####

House, Wilson, and Cuddy were having lunch the next day in the cafeteria, when Wilson got paged and suddenly it was just the two of them.

They smiled at each other, somewhat awkwardly. They hadn't been spending a lot of one-on-one social time together since House had found out about Lucas.

"Lucas tells me you accompanied him on a stake-out," Cuddy said finally. "Does this mean there's finally a thaw between you boys?"

"No," House said. "I still want him dead."

Cuddy smiled, looked down at the table.

"Of course," she said.

"Naw, he's alright. In an annoying sort of way," House said. Then trying to catch her eye, he said: "How are things going between you guys?"

Cuddy give a little chuckle.

"Oh noooo," she said. "I'm not answering that. That feels like a loaded question."

"Why loaded? We're friends right? Isn't that what we're supposed to be these days? Besties? Bosom buddies? BFFs."

"You _wish_ we were bosom buddies," Cuddy cracked.

"I think you just stole my line," House said, smiling at her.

Cuddy looked adorably proud of her joke, and for a second, House felt an embarrassing pang of tenderness for her.

"Since you asked, Lucas and I are doing great," Cuddy said, unconvincingly.

"Except for. . ." House said.

"Except nothing."

"There was a definite _except_ in your voice. . ."

"Nope. Lucas is a good man. Good to me. Good to Rachel. I have no complaints."

"So you . . .see a future there?" House croaked.

"I've had asshole boyfriends before and I've had nice ones. I can tell you from experience, nice is better," Cuddy said. "So yeah…I see a future."

"Congratulations," House said.

"So you're not upset?" she asked, cautiously.

"Nothing a bottle of a vicodin and a noose can't cure."

"Not funny, House!"

"I'm fine. I accept that you and the boy toy are going to live happily ever after together."

"No you don't."

"No. I don't. But would you believe me if I said that I just want you to be happy?"

Cuddy peered at him.

"Yes," she said finally. "I actually would."

######

Lucas had made a point of showering before his stakeout that night with House, but now there was a new problem.

"Christ, did you _bathe_ in aftershave?" House said.

"I wanted to smell nice for you," Lucas said.

"This isn't a date, Lucas. It's a stakeout."

"I swear, Cuddy is easier to please than you are."

House shrugged.

"Speaking of Cuddy," he said. "I've decided to help you. But don't get too excited about it or I'll change my mind."

Lucas, who had leapt up and was about to wrap House in a bear hug, backed off.

"What do I do?" he said, eagerly.

"First tell me the problem," House said.

"No problem. Just no. . .spark, you know? Frankly, she seems a bit bored by me."

"That's because you like her too much," House said.

"How can I like my girlfriend too much?"

"It's … off putting. Neediness and desperation are turn-offs. Cuddy needs a man. Not a fanboy."

"You would suggest I act like a jerk to her? Be more like you?"

"No, not a jerk. . .Just man up. Be assertive. Cuddy is a total control freak. And like all control freaks, she sometimes likes being told what to do."

"I'm not into all that macho he-man stuff," Lucas said.

"That's not what I'm saying," House said, impatiently. "I'm saying, surprise her with plans for dinner and a concert or something. Pick her up at work, arrange for the babysitter. Buy her a dress, that sort of thing."

"Buy her a dress? But how will I know what she likes?"

House looked at him like he had two heads.

"Buy her what _you_ like."

Lucas looked skeptical.

"Cuddy really prefers to be the one who makes the plans," he said. "She has a busy schedule. Sometimes she's too tired to go out. . .And I always pick the wrong restaurant. . ."

"Jesus, Lucas, you're such a pussy. You asked for my help, this is what I'm telling you. Man up. Sweep her off her feet."

"Alright…but when this all blows up horribly in my face, it'll be your fault." Then he looked out the window, ducked, and said, cagily. "Hey, there he is. That's our guy. Is he faking whiplash or not?"

House rolled down the window.

"Yo!" he yelled.

Then he rolled it back up.

"What the hell was that for?" Lucas said, shocked.

"He's not faking it," House said, with a shrug.

"What part of _secret stakeout_ don't you understand!" Lucas said.

"It's a moot point. Your insurance company client is going to have to pay. I yelled yo. He heard me, but couldn't turn his neck to see where the voice was coming from. Ergo, whiplash."

Lucas shrugged.

"Man, you're just full of lousy news tonight."

#####

About a week later, Cuddy came to House's office, Rachel in tow.

"The fellows are getting younger and younger," House cracked.

"Rachel, you remember House, right? He's ALWAYS joking."

"Hi Howse!" Rachel said.

"Hi Tiny Cuddy," House said.

"You have a big ball!" Rachel said.

"That's what your mom said," House said. Then, pretending to be confused, he said: "_Ohhh,_ you must mean bally. This is bally." He picked up his ball and began tossing it. "You want to hold it?"

Rachel nodded solemnly.

He tossed it toward her, very gently. It bounced off her chest and dribbled to the ground.

"Future centerfielder she's not," House said, bending down to pick it up. He handed it to her. "Just for one minute," he said. Then, immediately: "Okay, time's up!"

Startled, Rachel went to hand the ball back to House.

"Okay, you can keep it for a few more seconds," he cracked.

Rachel shot her mother a confused look.

"Rach. What did I tell you, sweetie? He's ALWAYS joking."

Rachel giggled. She didn't really understand the joke, but something about House made her laugh.

"He's silly!" she said.

"Yes he is," Cuddy said, shaking her head.

"So is today Take My Adorable Moppet to Work day?"

"The nanny called in sick and I couldn't find a babysitter and my mom's in Aruba and my assistant has jury duty, so here we are," Cuddy said in an exasperated way.

"Lucas? He doesn't have a real job, you know," House suggested.

"Today, of all days, he happens to be meeting with a client."

"And if you believe that who am I to burst your bubble?"

"Anyway, that's why I'm here. Any of your fellows want to get out of clinic duty for a week?"

She peered into the DDx room, which was empty.

"My funky fresh fellows are all out fellow-ing, as we speak," House said.

Cuddy sighed.

"Great…I have a meeting with some potential donors in 10 minutes. I'll see if I can grab one of the nurses." Then, almost to herself: "I promised myself I would never use the nurses as a free babysitting service."

"I'll watch her," House said, casually.

"Ha ha."

"No I'm serious. How hard can it be?"

Cuddy's mouth dropped open.

"She's really well behaved. And I shouldn't be gone for more than an hour."

"Why are you trying to convince me when it was my idea?"

"Because I'm convinced you're about to change your mind."

"Wanna use these cool new magic markers I just got?" House said to Rachel.

"Yay!" Rachel said.

"Done," House said. Then he turned to Cuddy, "Go. Shoo!"

"House, thank you so much," Cuddy said, still slightly incredulous. "I owe you, big time."

As she turned to leave, House said: "I assume the get out of clinic duty for a week deal applies to me too?"

Cuddy laughed.

"Of course," she said.

When she returned, a little over an hour later, House and Rachel were both coloring with the magic markers—Rachel standing; House on his knees—on the wall of the DDx room.

"Mama!" Rachel said, running up to her.

"You're _vandalizing_ the hospital?" Cuddy said, annoyed.

"Relax mama. Erasable ink."

"Ahhh," Cuddy said. Then, bending toward Rachel, she asked: "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah! We played with bally. And House gave me candy. And then he said it's fun to write on walls!"

"_Bad influence_," Cuddy mouthed to House.

He shrugged.

Then Cuddy took a look at House's drawing: A dark haired pin-up type, with her ample chest bursting out of a nurse's uniform.

"Who's that?" she said.

"You of course," he said. "Or at least you in this really great dream I had last night."

Cuddy snorted. Then Rachel led her by the hand to her drawing.

"Look mama! I drawed you!"

"And is that you holding my hand?"

"Uh huh."

"That's great, Rach! And who's the man in the drawing? Is that Lucas?"

"It's Howse!" Rachel said proudly.

House gave her a "what ya gonna do?" type look.

"Alright kiddo," Cuddy said, shaking her head. "Let's get out of here and let House do some work. Say bye-bye."

"Bye bye, Howse!" Rachel trilled.

"Bye kid."

"You did good," Cuddy said to House, still in some disbelief.

He bowed gallantly.

Once they were out of earshot, House picked up his phone. "Maintenance?" he said. "I need a cleaning crew. And, uh, some white paint."

#######

"This is going to cost you a whole case of Macallan," House grumbled.

He and Lucas were sitting in the back of the van, on another stakeout, playing cards.

"So what's it this time?" House said. "Whiplash? Soft tissue damage? Hysterical pregnancy?"

"Actually, there is no case," Lucas admitted.

House, who was losing at cards anyway, put down his hand and reshuffled them into the deck.

"Then what the hell are we doing here?" he asked.

"I need your advice again."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"The surprise dinner last week went great," Lucas said, by way of explaining himself. "She loved it. Said it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her."

House, despite himself, gave a slightly proud smile.

"So now I need your help with, um, another matter."

"I don't know. Call her mother," House said. "Find out what she liked to do as a kid."

"No. . .not that." Lucas looked down, hesitated, then said: "It's about. . .sex."

"Okay, you're a creepy guy in a van talking to me about sex. I'm officially uncomfortable. I have a rape whistle, you know."

"Very funny House. I have a real problem here."

"Can't get it up?"

"Nothing like that," Lucas said. "I just get the feeling that I'm not fully. . .satisfying her."

"There are pills you can take," House said. "Or, if truly desperate, penis enlargement surgery."

"The sex is fine. . ." Lucas said. "I have an orgasm, she has an orgasm—usually at least. But she always has this look on her face like, 'That's it?'"

"Short of having sex with her myself, I'm not quite sure how you think I can help here."

"What would you do with her?"

"You want me to tell you how I'd fuck your girlfriend?"

"Well, yeah."

House rubbed his chin, covering his mouth, trying not to let Lucas see he was laughing.

"You must be pretty desperate to ask another guy how to have sex with your girlfriend."

"Lisa is the sexiest woman I've ever dated— by far. I just want to keep her happy."

"I assume you go down on her?" House said.

"Sometimes," Lucas said, with a shrug.

"_Sometimes_?"

"Well, yeah. . .a quid pro quo kind of thing. She goes down on me. I go down on her. . .That's how all relationships work."

"Young Grasshopper, you have so much to learn. . .The key to sex with a goddess like Lisa Cuddy is it has to be about her pleasure more than yours."

"Meaning?"

"Don't pounce on her like some horny school boy. Getting her off is 10 times hotter than getting yourself off. You're a dude. You can have an orgasm by rubbing against the cushions of a coach."

"True. . . ."

"Go slow. Take your sweet time. Light some candles. Play some music—not Pearl Jam"—Lucas was a huge Eddie Vedder fan— "Something smooth, like Al Green. Tell her what you want to do to her. Tell her what you want her to do to you. Undress her slowly—take her in. First with your eyes, then with your hands, slowly. . .savoring every inch of her. . . All the while telling her how fucking hot she is, how hard she makes you. Remember this is all about her pleasure, so you respond to her body—_her_ shivers, _her_ sighs, _her_ moans. . ."

He was so lost in his little reverie he momentarily forget that Lucas was there. Then he looked up, blinked.

"You're _taking notes_?"

"Yeah," Lucas said. "I don't want to forget anything. So do I undress her with my eyes when she's clothed or when she's already naked?"

#######

Cuddy was lying in bed next to Lucas, who was grinning like a cat who had just swallowed a whole nest of canaries.

"Wow," Cuddy said, approvingly.

"You can say that again," Lucas said.

"Wow," Cuddy repeated, with a smile. "Whatever that was, keep doing it."

"That was. . .amazing," Lucas agreed.

Cuddy stretched languorously. "I'm exhausted. But in a good way."

Then she leaned over and kissed him goodnight.

Lucas was hardly a great lover—too fast, too eager, and, let's face it, not particularly well endowed—but tonight represented such a quantum leap forward, it was like he was a different guy. Maybe, just maybe, it would only get better from here. One thing's for sure, she needed to encourage his efforts.

"Goodnight, stud," she said.

"I love you," he replied.

######

Lucas had to meet with a client at 7:30, so he grabbed a quick breakfast—toast and coffee—as Cuddy, still in her nightie, sipped on her own mug of coffee and watched him eat.

"Gotta jam" he said, taking one last bite of his toast. "Get it? Toast? Jam?"

"Hilarious," she said.

He kissed her goodbye and sprinted to the door. He was still on a high from last night.

"Have a great day!" he sang.

After he left, she looked down at the table and noticed that he had left behind his notepad. Even though he had a smart phone, he was always writing things down, long hand, on a series of tiny notepads.

"Lucas, you forgot your—" she yelled after him. But he was long gone.

She shrugged. He probably had a whole bunch of them in the glove compartment of his van. She decided to do something cute, like write him a little note along the lines of: "Can't wait for an encore of last night."

But while flipping to a blank page, she came across some writing that stopped her dead in her tracks:

TAKE YOUR TIME

MUSIC (AL GREEN?)

LIGHT CANDLES

IT'S ABOUT HER PLEASURE

GO DOWN ON HER (H SAYS NON NEGOTIABLE)

ALWAYS SAY I LOVE YOU AFTER SEX

Cuddy stared at the notepad, in disbelief. Then, out of curiosity, she flipped to an earlier page.

SURPRISE HER

BUY DRESS.

CONCERT TICKETS

TAKE CONTROL

MAN UP!

Cuddy scratched her head, bewildered. It was like he had gone to some sort of . . .love tutor. Then she thought about it for a second: "H says non negotiable."

"House," she said out loud.

######

House was in the middle of a DDx when Cuddy came barging in.

"Your office," she barked. "Now."

"I'm sure this will just be a quickie—she's a busy woman," House said to his team, with a wink. He followed her into his office.

"If you're here to thank me again for babysitting Rachel, you're welcome."

"How dare you meddle in my personal life?" Cuddy said, angrily, putting her hands on her hips.

House started.

"Exsqueeze me?"

"I know about your little . . .love tutorials with Lucas."

House laughed to himself, scratched his chin.

"Lucas told you about that?" he said.

"No," she said. "In fact, I wasn't totally sure until right now. I found his notebook."

"That moron. I told him he shouldn't have taken notes," House sighed.

"You two talked about me? About having sex with me?"

"We're dudes. What do you think we talk about? Aftershave?. . .Okay, bad example."

"You gave him instructions? You told him to buy me a dress? To _go down _on me?"

"He said you liked the dress," House said. "And I _know_ you liked the—"

"That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"You had no right violating my privacy like that!"

"What can I say? He asked."

Then she squinted at him. "Why? I mean, why would he ask for advice from his arch nemesis? Did Darcy ask Mr. Collins for advice about Elizabeth Bennet?"

"I said that exact same thing!" House said. "Only in a much less gay way." Then he shrugged. "I dunno. He said there was passion between us. Something about you being highly focused in my presence."

For a brief moment, Cuddy had a flashback to her date with Lube Guy: "You should hear yourself when you're talking to him. Nothing else in the world's going on. You're focused, confident, compelling."

"That's ridiculous," she said.

House shrugged.

"Just trying to help." Then he raised his eyebrows provocatively. "So how was last night?"

"None of your business," she said.

"That good, huh?" he sad with a grin.

"Shut up, House," she said. Then she looked at him, folded her arms. "Okay, so I guess I understand why he asked for your help. Sort of. But why did you give it? I thought you wanted my relationship with Lucas to crash and burn."

House sighed.

"You told me he was good to you," he said quietly. "And that you saw a future with him. I figured you if you were going to stay with him, you may as well be having better dates and hotter sex."

Cuddy wanted to say something angry in reply, but the sentiment was so unexpectedly sweet, she was left speechless.

"Well, no more meddling," she said finally.

"But I signed up for the whole semester of Meddling 101 with Wilson!"

"I'm serious," she said.

"So am I," he said. "I'm officially done being Lucas's Cyrano."

####

She and Lucas had sex again that night, but her mind kept drifting. Instead of Lucas grunting on top of her she was picturing House. His strong lean hands, his regal sad face, his breath hot against her neck.

"What the fuck?" Lucas said rolling off her.

"What?" she said, jolting back into reality.

"You just called me House."

"No I didn't," she said, feebly.

"Yes, you did. But you didn't say it so much as _moan_ it. . ."

"I. . . didn't mean to."

"That is fucked up," Lucas said, poutily.

"As fucked up as you asking House for tips on how to get me off?"

Lucas's eyes widened.

"He _told_ you?"

"No, he didn't tell me. You left your notebook behind, you moron."

"Oh," Lucas said. "I was wondering where that thing went."

Lucas dropped his head into his hands.

"Why did you ask House for advice about our sex life?" Cuddy said.

"For the same reason you just called out his name during sex," Lucas said, bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?"

"Apparently yes."

"You're in love with him. You always have been in love with him. I'm just the safe substitute, like non fat milk. Or. . . tofurkey."

"Tofurkey?"

"It's like a fake turkey."

"I know what tofurkey is," Cuddy said.

"I'm just the healthier, less satisfying alternate."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" Lucas said. "Do you know how much I'd pay to have you look at me the way you look at him? Just once? And now you're calling his name out in bed? As if I wasn't insecure enough."

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said.

"Me too," he said sadly.

And they sat there in silence, both knowing he was right, both knowing it was over.

#####

She found House the next day in the lab.

"Here you are!" she said. "I've been looking everywhere."

"I know," House said, in a distracted way. "Shocking when I'm actually doing my job isn't it?"

Then, peering through the microscope, he said: "What do you see?"

He backed away so Cuddy could take a look.

"Liver cells," Cuddy said.

"Ironic, since this is the guy's pancreas." Then he raised his eyebrows in a mad scientist kind of way. "Weird huh?"  
He went back to looking at his sample.

"What's up?"

"I …uh…wanted to talk to you, but I can see that you're busy."

"I'm never too busy for you, sweet sauce!" he said, ironically.

"No, I'll come back later."

House turned away from the microscope, gave her his full attention.

"Sorry, what's up?" he said seriously.

Cuddy looked at him, felt her face grow red.

"Something happened last night."

"Okay. . ."

"Between me and Lucas. . ."

"I'm glad that your sex life is getting better, but I really don't need to hear—"

"I. . . I called out your name during sex."

House's mouth formed a little "o"—then he recovered.

"What were you thinking about? House cleaning? House music? House of Representatives?"

"You know I was thinking about you," Cuddy said. "And what's more. . . so did Lucas."

House looked down at the lab floor—cold and clinical, definitely a strange place to have what was shaping up to be a life-changing conversation.

"Sucks for him," he mumbled.

"So I had this. . epiphany," she said.

"Epiphany?"

"Yes, Every man I date wishes I'd look at them the way I look at you. Even Don."

"Who?"

"That blind date I went on a few years ago. . .nevermind. The point is, I'm crazy about you. Emphasis on the word crazy, naturally. Rachel met you once and she still can't stop talking about you. And the only time my boyfriend of 5 months turned me on was when he was doing his best approximation of you! Therefore, I can only conclude that. . ."

But before she could finish her sentence, House grabbed her and was kissing her—in a hungry, possessive kind of way. She kissed back, aroused beyond all measure, feeling his arms around her, his tongue in her mouth, his rough skin against hers. God, she had wanted this for so long—denied herself this for so long. If it wasn't the middle of the afternoon, in the hospital she ran, he'd have her up against the wall with her panties at her ankles in no time.

Finally, slightly out of breath, they parted.

"So I guess you, uh, came to the same conclusion," she said with a tiny smile.

"About two years ago," he said, smiling back. "What took you so damn long?"

"I guess I'm a slow learner," she said.

THE END


End file.
